


Sakura

by oodal (softkyun)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Piercings, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Tongue Piercings, punk aomine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softkyun/pseuds/oodal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine Daiki has a lot of piercings; ears, eyebrow, lip, tongue, and so forth. He wears leather pants. His roommate, on the other hand, has never seen someone with piercings in his entire life. When he finds Aomine looming over his sheets and grinning, Sakurai Ryou knows that it's going to be a rough, rough semester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Move-In Day

**Author's Note:**

> i love this pairing and i love college aus and it never gets any love and --- /sobs
> 
> side note - the story title is not a typo. orz

He was terrifying.

And he had a lot of stuff.

Sakurai stood frozen in the doorway of his dorm room; he'd just left a few minutes ago to go buy himself a bottle of water from the vending machine, and when he'd come back, his new roommate was standing by his bed, leaning over his sheets - Sakurai's, that is. The small brunette's throat tightened as he realized that the other boy (who was dressed in all black, and was that leather? Oh, God, it was leather) was most definitely examining his sheets very intently. Was something wrong? He'd just put them on this morning. He'd only gotten here a few hours prior, having been unceremoniously dumped at the front door of the dorm building by his father, so they... had to be fine.... right?

"You gonna stand there in the doorway starin' at my ass all day, or what?"

Sakurai jumped at the suddenness of the world, plastic water bottle clattering to the floor. 

"S-sorry!" He stammered before he could help himself, crouching quickly with a burning face to pick up the bottle. He heard his roommate snicker, and Sakurai wished he could calm himself down enough to remember what his roommate's name actually was. He'd read it a hundred times on his moving slip, but there hadn't been a picture; he hadn't even seen his roommate's face, and Sakurai could barely convince himself to pull his gaze off the floor as he heard the other male settle with a creak onto the bed that Sakurai had already put his sheets on. Meanwhile, mysterious roommate's belongings sat on his bed, which was unmade, and they were nowhere near being unpacked. 

"You can, like, stand up or shit. Geez." The roommate said, and even though he sounded amused, Sakurai felt like an ominous cloud had been hung over him, like the words were tangible and had weight. Sakurai flushed heavier as he straightened himself back up from the crouching position, glancing back to his roommate, brown eyes widening.

Sakurai struggled to breathe as he took in his roommate, and it wasn't just because his roommate was currently sitting with Sakurai's brand-new pillow in his lap. It was because Sakurai couldn't even focus on one part of his face; with every subtle shift of the other male's head, the light glittered off of silver piercings. How many? Sakurai doubted he could see them all, but there was one through his eyebrow (Sakurai didn't know much about piercings, but it looked like a little bar, he guessed), a ring around his lower lip, and too many for Sakurai to really count in that short amount of time in the other male's ear. He could at least make out a cuff at the top, a plain stud at the bottom, and some sort of earring with a chain... But that was all he got before he realized what was on the male's black t-shirt.

Oh, no. Please, no. An incredibly busty sketch of a woman in very scanty clothing was on his roommate's shirt. She wore devil horns, had a devil tail, and held a terrifying looking trident. Sakurai didn't recognize the name scrawled beneath the ridiculously high heels the drawing had on, but he figured it was some kind of band. He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring until he heard his roommate clear his throat, and Sakurai's head jerked back up from where his gaze had trailed down to those leather pants. Who even wore leather? And scary shirts?

His roommate was a Satanist. Sakurai's mouth went dry, and he mumbled, "Sorry," because he figured he might have been staring.

"Oi, you can look, but you can't touch. Well, maybe later, but I at least like a few kisses before the rest of that." His roommate responded cockily, and Sakurai gasped, taking a step back towards the threshold of the door.

"I-I'm n-no.. I--" Sakurai stammered, unable to get the words out. Fortunately for him, his roommate didn't even care to hear him finish, because he just chuckled again, and stood. Oh, man. His roommate had to be at least fifteen centimeters taller than him, if not more. Sakurai felt a little bit like he was being loomed over, especially when a slow grin began to spread across his face.

"Not gay, right? Well, hate to break it to you, but neither am I." The piercing shimmered when he smiled again, and Sakurai was distracted by it, because he'd never seen someone with a lip piercing before. College was all for new experiences, but... He didn't... He didn't think he could... handle this. Sakurai glanced away from him, fixating his gaze on his desk, perfectly organized as of a couple minutes ago.

"I, er.. Sorry..."

"Say that one more again and I'll give you a reason to be sorry."

Sakurai wanted to melt into the floor, but the next thing he knew, a hand was being stuck out towards him, and that smug voice he would have to get used to introduced themselves, finally,

"Aomine Daiki."

\---

"S-Sakurai Ryou, it's a, uhm, pleasure.. to meet.. you."

Aomine wanted to cackle. Shit, he'd played his cards perfectly. Well, this could be just the other guy's personality, considering they'd just met, but either way, his roommate was putty in front of him, holding a Dasani and quivering like a little pile of jello. Aomine needed him that way, considering his plans for tonight, and after all... It was entertaining.

To be honest, he hadn't entirely been looking forward to the whole moving-in shit. Didn't sound fun to him; he barely cleaned at home, let alone actually did his own laundry, let along put it away in dressers. He liked to leave his clothes wherever he liked, and even though his mom had lectured him about twenty times in the last week on improving his cleanliness to spare his poor roommate, he really didn't care. He'd known, though, when he walked into the room and say the side of the room perfectly organized and all that, that his roommate was one of two things: a momma's boy, and the mom had put all that together, or a stick in the mud who'd decided to organize his stuff like that of his own violation. Aomine had ruled out the first option, considering if the mom was that bad, she'd still be lingering around and probably inhaling the scent of her son off the covers.

Okay, well, maybe not that, but Aomine had seen the Axe commercial about the stupid Momsong, and there was no way he was getting it out of his head now.

Either way, Aomine went with the latter of the two ideas. His roommate was a stick in the mud. Even his sheets screamed it, a soft sienna brown set of plain cotton, with a plain dark-green comforter. God, he was probably such a plain Jane. Er, John. It had been as he leaned over those sheets and stared into the covers that he decided that he was going to have a damn party with this. He would make it fun. He would yank that stick out of the mud, and he'd do something with his roommate.

To be surprised, when he'd felt eyes on his back, he'd just reacted normally, and then he'd faced his roommate.

Plain John, he was. Well, not entirely. He had big, doe-brown eyes, mousy brown hair. Short, compared to Aomine, at least; maybe five foot nine/ten. Aomine wasn't sure, but either way, he was at least plain and cute. A bit of a baby-face, considering that Aomine liked his men buff as hell and ready to thrown him against a wall so hard that his jaw rattled, but that was besides the point. He wanted to mess with him, not sex him up.

Apparently he'd startled the poor little mouse, because he'd dropped his water bottle... and now he was just crouching on the floor, looking anywhere but Aomine. When had he told him to get up, he had stood, apologizing again. Wow, that was more apologizing from this kid in a couple minutes than Aomine had done in the past month of his life. He couldn't help chuckling at the other guy, who was now transfixed on Aomine's appearance. Aomine couldn't help it. He had preened, sitting on the kid's bed with the pillow in his lap, tilting his head just the way he knew looked attractive and bared his neck just so. The other male hadn't looked like he was looking at Aomine's neck, but it couldn't hurt. When Aomine had had enough of being oogled (well, moreso of doing nothing, because he didn't think he'd ever tire of being the source of someone's attention) he called Plain John out on his staring, and immediately, he got what he thought he might. The 'I'm not gay' protest.

Aomine had to bite back the comment that sat on the tip of his tongue - that Plain John'd be gay when he got done with him - but instead, he just went with a more ambiguous comment. Not gay, sure he wasn't. That's because Aomine was about as sexually steady as a fucking two-year old with a bottle of liquor. Girls one day, boys the next. The couch if he had a little too much to drink himself. He didn't really care, but he didn't need to break that to his poor little Plain John. He'd probably have a heart attack.

Speaking of heart attacks, Aomine was going to actually give him one if he apologized one more time. He half-expected the male to apologize again when Aomine called him out on his bullshit, but he didn't, and Aomine decided it was high time to introduce himself. 

Now they were here, with stammering John - well, Sakurai - standing in front of him and squeaking out something about pleasure. Aomine laughed, and the ball of his tongue piercing clicked against his back teeth.

"Glad we're all nice and settled in. Anyways, you got any friends on the hall, yet?" Aomine asked him, grinning as he finally headed back over to his side of the room, pulling out his sheets and stuff to get the bed made. 

He caught Sakurai shaking his head gently out of the corner of his vision, twisting the cap of his water bottle anxiously.

Aomine snorted. 

"You better find one, 'cause I'm bringing a girl over tonight. Gotta baptize the place, or however that shit goes."

He would savor the spluttering sound that Sakurai made for a week to come, at least, Aomine thought. He paused in his unpacking, casually leaning against his suitcase, and grinned impishly as Sakurai tried to say something back to him.

"S-sorry, but, uhm, I-- I-- I don't..."

"Nowhere to go, I know, I know." Aomine waved his hand, then ran it through his hair.

"Here's the thing, though. This girl is wild. God, chest to die for, voice of an angel, and a really, really nice lay in general, you know?"

"N-not really."

"Besides the point, anyways, haven't seen her since like, high school, when we stopped talking. We'll probably get handsy fast, and I have a feeling that you haven't gotten handsy with anything except your mother since---"

Aomine paused, because there was an audible change in the boy's stance when he mentioned his mother. He tensed up, more than usual, and his hands clenched on the bottle. Okay, sore spot. Aomine tucked that way for later, and then just shrugged his shoulders, turning back to his bed to unfold his sheets.

"Either way, find somewhere to be tonight, because I'm fucking Satsuki and that's the end of it."

He could feel Sakurai's despair from across the room.


	2. The Hall Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes sense to ask the hall leader for help... right? Maybe Sakurai shouldn't have done anything at all. Anything probably would have ended with better results, actually, but this.

Sakurai couldn't believe this was happening. He stood in his room - alone, now, for Aomine had gone out to fetch this girl that was apparently coming over - and instead of twisting the cap of his water battle anxiously, he now had the hem of his t-shirt in his hands. This wasn't how his first night at college was supposed to go. Sure, classes didn't start for another two days, but he thought he would have a quiet day on campus tomorrow, prepare himself, get to know his roommate.. Not this. Anything but this.

The words of his roommate echoed in his head. Sakurai had to find somewhere else to stay tonight, because Aomine was bringing back a girl, and having his merry way with her.

That sounded so embarrassing. 

Sakurai didn't mind. Okay, well, he did, just a little bit; exactly where was he supposed to go during the event? It wasn't that easy. He'd already told his roommate that he didn't have any other friends on the hall - he had none in the entire school, actually. He didn't think he could consider his roommate a friend at this stage in their... er... relationship, and Sakurai hadn't spoken to anyone else yet. How was he supposed to find somewhere to go if he didn't know anyone? He wasn't exactly bold; this, he knew about himself, without a doubt. He couldn't just approach someone and beg to crash on their floor for the night.

With an anxious sigh, he released his shirt, which was wrinkled from all of the attention it had been receiving, and he turned back to his desk, where his things were neatly put away. He had a list of important information about his dorm building tucked into one of the drawers, and on it was the name of their hall's manager. If he asked, maybe he could stay with the hall manager? That couldn't be too hard, right? Sakurai pulled the drawer back open and the information was the first paper on top of the stack.

He couldn't help pulling out his recipe book, too. Sakurai had put it together himself, handwriting all of the things he liked to cook and putting them into index card holders. He wouldn't be able to cook very much, here, though. Sakurai bit his lower lip as he thought about it, already feeling a little bit depressed over the idea. He... He just wanted to cook. He liked to do it when he was stressed, but there wasn't a kitchen here for him to do it in. His fingers tightened on the binding of the home-made cookbook, and he struggled for another deep breath before he slid the book back into his hiding place.

Hall leader. That was his mission here, not stupid things that he shouldn't do, anyways. 

He traced his finger down the paper until he found it; the name of his hall leader, bolded and centered near the bottom of his page, right beneath where his roommate was listed. Wakamatsu Kosuke... Room 209. Sliding the paper back into the draw, Sakura stood, murmuring quietly to himself,

"Room 209... 209.. Wakamatsu Kosuke..." 

He tugged the bottom of his t-shirt in an attempt to make the wrinkles more presentable as he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the back of their dorm's door. Oh, no, his hair - he had messed it up, anxiously running his hands through it and trying to come up with a solution to his impending problem. Did he even have anything to cover it up with? He didn't wear hats; he just didn't do it. It was sort of improper and his father had always insisted it gave off the wrong image...

Nervously, he patted his fingers over his hair, combing through brown locks to try and smooth it down. He glanced to the side, where he could see his roommate's half-unpacked clothing strewn across his barely-made bed. A beanie rest on top... but it was black. And covered in skulls.

Sakurai settled for wetting his hands and smoothing his hair down that way. He could only hope that he didn't look ridiculous as he quietly shut the room behind him (although he checked for his key, first). He was only a couple of doors down from 209, and he tried to convince himself to calm down as he went there. For the guy to be a hall leader, he had to be nice, right? A nice leader, maybe? Or, Sakurai thought with increasing panic, a very, very strict one.

As he stood in front of the door, he hesitated. What if Wakamatsu wasn't in his room? Sakurai didn't have a back-up plan at this point in time. He wouldn't know unless he knocked, though, and so he did. His eyes widened as the door moved, and Sakurai wondered if he was even allowed to go in. He flushed and gave the door a push with the flat of his palm, and it swung the rest of the way open to reveal a room with a single bed, and... a heck of a lot of trash. Trash was everywhere, clothes were everywhere, stuff was just... everywhere. Wasn't it the first day? Wasn't everything supposed to be nice and neat? The room was littered with yakisoba wrappers, and Sakurai's hands impulsively twitched to try and clean it up. He definitely wouldn't, considering that it wasn't his property, and just as he turned to leave a strong, heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.

"Fresh... meat..." 

Sakurai's scream caught in his throat. He staggered forwards into the room, turned on his heel, and stared up to a man who dwarfed him by far too much height for him to be comfortable. Was everyone on this hall a giant?

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Sakurai apologized frantically, terrified that this blonde giant had caught him intruding in his room. He hadn't even stepped into the room when the person found him, and yet he still felt like he had been rifling through the belongings, or something. It didn't help that the man's voice was boomingly loud; if Sakurai hadn't been standing right there, he would've sworn that he had used a microphone.

"What's a little shrimp like you doing in my room?" Wakamatsu boomed, grinning wildly as he looked down at the flushed, shocked freshman in his dorm. It was always fun to tease them, although they didn't usually react like this one. This one looked like he was about to fall over with shock, and Wakamatsu felt.. well, a little bad, but it was amusing to rattle people up a little bit. Plus, he couldn't really control the volume of his voice, and that was usually what got people, anyways.

"I-I'm Sakurai Ryou.. I came.. to, ah, find my... hall.. leader... I..." Before he could finish introducing himself, he was cut off, as the tall blonde patted himself on the chest. 

"You found him! Whatcha need?" 

Sakurai nearly keeled over with making such a bad impression on his hall leader from the start, but it didn't seem like he was mad.. Just.. naturally... very... energetic? He was exuding energy, the more that Sakurai thought about it; it was like he was buzzing where he stood, constantly moving. Everything about him was loud, from the way he leaned against the doorway with a heavy thump to the boasting timbre of his voice.

Now, he had to figure out how to share his problem.

"W-well... you see..."

One very awkward, stumbling explanation about how his roommate wanted to bring a girl home and didn't want Sakurai to be in the room, things were starting to get very scary. Wakamatsu's eyes had narrowed, and that boundless energy had turned into something more frightening - namely, anger. Anger at him? Anger at Aomine? Sakurai didn't know. He hadn't even gotten to the part where he asked if he could stay here for the night, even though with all of the food trash in the room (was that a milk carton?) Sakurai figured that was probably impossible.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill the little shit, walking in like he owns the place!" Wakamatsu fumed, hands clenching at his sides. Oh no. Sakurai's mouth fell open as Wakamatsu turned out the door, took a step into the hallway, and looked like he was on a serious mission. The brunette knew he needed to fix things, and fast,

"P-please, I'm so sorry to bother you, I don't mind I just need somewhere to stay for the night and--"

"WHAT ROOM ARE YOU IN?" His voice had gone up probably twenty levels in volume, and Sakurai might have wondered how his throat didn't hurt, if his mind wasn't more focused on the fact that he was going to get his roommate killed. 

"I-it's fine, I'll f-find somewh..." He started to try and distract him, and Wakamatsu turned back towards him now, furious gaze settled on Sakurai. He reached out that hand again and this time put it on Sakurai's head, leaning down towards him some.

"TELL ME!" 

Sakurai's knees quivered and he whispered,

"H-he's... not.. there..." In his last, pathetic attempt to redirect the anger of his hall leader.

"WHERE IS HE?"

"He went to get the girl, I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner! It's my fault!" 

Wakamatsu's mouth, heavy-set and angry at that point, turned into a slow frown. Well, if the roommate was gone, there was nothing he could do about it... But he wanted to strangle that guy's neck for being a freshman, kicking out his roommate, and dragging a girl into their dorm for sex on the very first night. Sakurai had only said she was staying over, but Wakamatsu knew what that meant. 

As Sakurai contemplated how exactly to plan his funeral when he only had a few more minutes to live, Wakamatsu finally pulled his hand away from Sakurai's head, and then crossed his arms across his broad chest.

"We'll wait."

Sakurai barely managed to hold in his groan, but he did successfully perform a weak nod and start the trudge back to his bedroom. His hands shook as he unlocked it, and Wakamatsu made a beeline for his bed. Why was it always his bed? Why? Why?

"Any clue when he'll be back?"

Sakurai felt like the silence of his room had been violated by the almost obnoxious voice of his hall leader. It felt like his voice was just bouncing off of Sakurai's poor eardrums and vibrating his skull, or something. In response to the question, though, he shook his head no, and slowly sat down at his desk. What had he gotten himself into, exactly?

\---

Three painstaking hours later - filled with mostly Wakamatsu's chatter, which was probably a little bit too bold to be called small talk - Sakurai thought he was at his nerves' end. Every single time his hall leader got excited, his voice would grow even louder, and Sakurai woudl sartle, his heart would skip a beat - essentially, he was exhausted from just sitting with the blonde man. He knew a ton about him, now, though; he was only a year older than Sakurai, despite his height, and this was his first year being a hall leader. Last year's hall leader was still around, a guy that Wakamatsu described as 'secretly creepy stupid-glasses Imayoshi', but had picked up a job as a library assistant instead and passed the job onto Wakamatsu. Wakamatsu was a physical education major, which made plenty of sense to Sakurai. He talked passionately about sports for longer than Sakurai could keep track of.

He was on the subject of how important it was for people to know more about the proper way to run (he shot Sakurai a look like he was trying to figure out if he knew the proper way to run, and it made Sakurai shudder in his seat) when there was a knock on the door. Sakurai flinched, because next he heard the jingling of a key at the door; the only other person who had a key was Aomine, and... well, he was probably with the girl, and Sakurai was supposed to be gone now, and now this meant that there was going to be a confrontation in between ---

"GET THE FUCK IN HERE FRESHMAN!!"

Wakamatsu was fuming again. Sakurai shuddered and slunk further into his chair, hearing Aomine curse as the door swung open. A gorgeous girl with long pink hair and... more piercings?? Had Sakurai just lived in a rock for his entire life? (He decided not to think any more about that.)

"Seriously, what. The. Hell." Aomine spat as soon as he stepped into the room, eyeing a Wakamatsu who had just risen from bed.

"Dai-chan..." The girl at his side - hadn't Aomine called her Satsuki? - said quietly, although there was an underlying tone of anger. She was pretty; there was no denying that. She was in a black lace shirt with a pair of black jeans (pants?) that had a floral pattern over them, and Sakurai wondered what she was doing hanging out with someone like Aomine, who didn't exactly seem like he treated people very well.

"What do you think you're doing, bring a girl in here and kicking your roommate out on the very first night?!" Wakamatsu demanded before Sakurai had the chance to stutter an apology out to anyone in the room. Aomine flinched at the loud tone of the hall leader, eyes narrowing in response, lips pulling back in a half-snarl that made him look very menacing, actually. 

Aomine couldn't believe this. He'd just asked one thing - for his stupid, silly-putty, jello plain John roommate to get out of the room for the night so that he could have a good time with Satsuki, and instead, he comes back to a giant idiot with a booming voice and a quivering (but not gone!) Sakurai? Sure, Sakurai looked like he was going to cry and melt into the floor all at the same time, but then again, he sort of looked like that all of the time.

"What do you think you're doing in my room?" Aomine snapped back at mystery-screamer in his room, and he felt Satsuki tense next to him, squeezing the arm she had been holding onto as they walked a little harder.

"Dai-chan, you lied to me." She whispered, and her voice was dangerously low. Aomine's concentration broke a little bit when he realized that he might be in very deep shit. He just had wanted Satsuki to come back to the room for a bit... and if it took telling her that his roommate had plans and wouldn't be there, well, that's what it took. Technically, he had planned for Sakurai to actually have plans. He hadn't planned on this.

"Don't you fucking sass me, freshman! I'm your hall leader!" That guy's voice was just getting even louder, and he took a step towards Aomine, who instinctively stepped towards him in return, puffing himself up a little bit so that he might be able to destroy this stupid idiot. He'd gotten in enough fights...

"P-please... stop! I'm s-so sorry, I should've just gone somewhere!" 

The two of them both paused to glance towards Sakurai, who had shot up from his chair, teary-eyed and with his fists clenched at his side.

Before they had the chance to response, the next sound in the room was a resounding slap, across the face of one incredibly shocked Aomine Daiki.

"I can't believe you put me, or this poor guy - who you promised me had plans, in this situation! God, you're such an idiot!" With that angry declaration, the pink-haired girl who Sakurai hadn't even said a word to yet turned on her heel, and marched out of the room, leaving an amused Wakamatsu, a shocked Sakurai, and an even more shocked (and angry) Aomine in her wake.

"My work here is done." announced a very smug Wakamatsu, eyes glittering as he crossed his arms again, staring down the dark-skinned male in front of him. 

"Oh no it isn't, I'm going to kick your ass, hall leader---" Aomine started angrily, practically spitting as he stepped forward again to close the space in between himself and the blonde. Wakamatsu looked at him and the tension increased, although the smug look didn't increase, and he leaned in to stare Aomine in the face.

"I don't pick fights with freshman." He snorted, and Sakurai's mouth was agape for not the first time that day. Hadn't... hadn't they just been two seconds away from flying fists only a few mere moments ago? Sakurai couldn't believe the whirlwind of events that had just happened, and he would've thought it a dream if not for Aomine's reddening cheek and his own thundering heartbeat.

He opened his mouth to apologize - this whole mess really was his fault, after all - and found a hand over his mouth. He stared up at Wakamatsu, shocked, and the other male just peered back down at him.

"You need anything else, you give me a call, you stupid little mushroom."

M-mushroom?

With that, Wakamatsu was gone, leaving Sakurai with one fuming roommate. Oh, god, he really should just jet out of here. He should just escape. He watched, frozen with terror, as Aomine snatched up that beanie that Sakurai had seen earlier and jammed it on his head, before turning back to Sakurai with an intensity that Sakurai wasn't used to being on the end of.

"Put your goddamn shoes on, we're going out. And get your wallet, because you're paying for causing that shit."

When Sakurai didn't moved, Aomine's gaze nearly became a squint, and he huffed.

"I'm about as serious as a fucking heart attack. Let's go." 

It took a few moments, but Sakurai managed to stumble out of the chair and towards his shoes.

This was not the night Aomine had planned, but it would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh, this chapter got kinda long!
> 
> i hope everyone liked the introduction of wakamatsu!!! i know momoi's entrance was brief, but believe me, she'll be back later~~ 
> 
> i'm hoping that the chapter lived up to everyone's hopes and thank you for the positive feedback so far~~


	3. Kuroba's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, Aomine takes him to a coffee shop. He doesn't exactly take him out, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so so sorry for the wait! i haven't had time to sit down and really work on the chapter, which i rewrote about three times. i had an out-of-state trip last weekend and prom just this weekend, so i've been busy! i hope this chapter makes up for it a little bit??? OTL i'm sorry!!

Sakurai's hands quivered as he picked up his wallet from where it rest on top of his desk. He barely managed to get his feet into his sneakers. He decided not to tie them; he just tucked the laces into the inside of the shoe and stood, because the longer he spent trying to pull himself together, the more heated he felt Aomine's gaze growing, and it was disconcerting. As he stood, Aomine let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Finally. God, are you a snail or something?" He drawled heatedly, and Sakurai didn't know if he was supposed to respond to that, so he didn't. He shuffled awkwardly out of the room after Aomine, who was impatiently standing a few steps away from him, the door tapping. Sakurai fumbled with the key as he tried to turn it and lock the room, turning even redder underneath Aomine's gaze. If he prayed hard enough, would Wakamatsu appear again, like a guardian angel? A scary, energetic, giant guardian angel... But a protector in the very least? He couldn't bother the other male again, that would just be rude, but he was half-afraid that Aomine was going to drag him into a dark alley and beat him for making his date leave like that.

Speaking of Aomine's date...

"I-is your cheek okay?"

The tentative voice of Sakurai sounded almost unreal, and when it reached Aomine's ear, he glanced over with vague shock. Really? After he dragged the shaking, quivering boy out of his room, he was really going to ask about Aomine's cheek - not about where they were going, not to protest paying, not to call for help, but to ask about his cheek? Aomine reached up with his left hand to touch the spot where Satsuki's hand had hit him gingerly. It was hot with blood rush, but he thought that it might just swell a little bit; it hadn't been as hard as Satsuki could hit, certainly, or he would have a bruise from that slap. 

"Fine." Aomine responded gruffly, watching as Sakurai stiffened up beside him, startled by his response, as if he hadn't expected one or as if he had expected a worse one. He should be afraid, really. Aomine couldn't get over the fact that all he'd done was ask his roommate to get out of his room, and instead, he'd walked back to a guy who called himself their hall leader.

"Who the fuck was that guy?" He asked out of nowhere, and watched Sakurai fiddle with his wallet, folding and unfolding, opening and un-opening it. Sakurai wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to say; he felt bad about Wakamatsu being in there, as the man was no gentle soul, although he didn't seem genuinely malicious, but then again, Sakurai hadn't known who else to turn to. He figured the best method was to tell the truth, and so, he avoided looking over at Aomine (his eyebrow piercing, which glinted under the streetlights, was also kind of distracting, too) and began to mumble his explanation.

"I went to him to figure out if there was... er... somewhere I could stay for the night. I really did try to stay out of your way." Aomine listened with a cocked head, one eyebrow raising as he listened. Well, shit. Here he was expecting that Sakurai had gone and tattled on him, but instead, the guy had been trying to figure out a way to get out of the room for the night. Aomine felt a little bad for being so angry at him now - although there was still no denying that Sakurai had ruined his chance with Satsuki for the night. He let out a long sigh, and shrugged.

"That guy's probably going to be a pain in the ass. Don't worry about it."

Sakurai's eyes widened when Aomine spoke. Perhaps... Maybe, that was Aomine's way of telling Sakurai that it was okay? Maybe just a little bit, at least? 

"I really am sorry." The brown-haired boy apologized once again, and he wasn't expecting Aomine to let out a long, dramatic groan.

"God, you're so annoying. Stop apologizing, idiot, or I'll call you a mushroom, too." Aomine lamented next to him, running a hand through his shagged hair. Why did this idiot keep apologizing? Sure, it had been his fault, but he'd already apologized. He'd apologized when it happened, apologized enough before it even happened to be covered for his next couple transgressions... Yeah, he did plenty of apologizing for whatever might roll his way.

"So---" Sakurai began, and then fell silent, realizing that he was about to apologize again. Aomine cut him off with an abrupt noise, and Sakurai flinched, before glancing down to his shoes. He struggled to keep pace with Aomine's longer strides, but - even as he clumsily tried to keep up, there was something in Aomine's exasperated sigh that wasn't all irritation. If he wasn't completely wrong, it even sounded a little fond, or at least accepting, and Sakurai figured that was all he could ask for at this moment, especially considering the reddening splotch on the dark skinned male's cheek that only bloomed more in the chill night air.

\---

The rest of the walk was in silence. Sakurai was constantly a step or two behind the taller male, but he was at least keeping up with him. He didn't know where they were going, and Aomine certainly wasn't giving him any hints. Aomine moved with a purpose, however, and although it could possibly be a false front, all Sakurai could do was hope that the other male at least had a destination in mind, particularly if Sakurai was apparently supposed to be paying for something. He hoped that they would end up at a cheap little pizza point or something. With all of the night's commotion, Sakurai hadn't eaten yet... but maybe Aomine had. Perhaps he'd grabbed dinner before he returned with the pink-haired girl; Sakurai really had no clue., Much like everything else about Aomine, he had little knowledge concerning it.

Before he could gather up the courage to ask, Aomine took a turn, stepping right in front of Sakurai. He staggered to a stop, barely avoiding a collision with the taller male. 

"In here." Aomine spoke, and that was it as he nudged open the door to a place that Sakurai would have otherwise passed up. He and his family, well, they didn't attend places that weren't brand names... Or well known, or well reviewed. This place looked like a hole in the wall sort of joint, and the wooden floor creaked beneath them as they stepped in. Aomine glanced back at him, judging Sakurai's reaction; it was just a coffee shop, yet and still Sakurai looked as if Aomine had dragged him into a stripper joint, instead.

Aomine couldn't help it. He chuckled, and the low sound turned into a full-out laugh. 

"You're an idiot. It's a coffee shop. I'm too pissed to go to bed, I have a headache that caffeine will definitely help, and I wasn't going to leave you sobbing in our dorm room on the phone with mom." Aomine said, and paused when there was an exuberant, aggressive response to a statement that he hadn't believed particularly offensive,

"I wouldn't have called my mother!"

Aomine paused, glancing down to Sakurai. He had his wallet clutched in one hands, eyes wide and jaw set strongly, for once. The mom thing, again? Aomine was curious, sure, but... He knew when he was supposed to push a subject, and when he wasn't supposed to. With a half-hearted shrug, he turned back to the counter, waving Sakurai in after him. It took a moment before he heard the other's footfalls behind him, but once he had moved towards him, Aomine turned back towards the counter.

"Ah... Columbian roast, black, large." Aomine told the girl behind the counter, who nodded as she fiddled with the register. Aomine stepped aside and looked back to Sakurai, who was still quivering. Was that a health condition or something? Should Aomine be concerned for him?

Sakurai stepped forward, fidgeting with his wallet again as he quietly ordered a small chai tea. Aomine glanced curiously to him, but said nothing else; he had pegged Sakurai as a hot chocolate sort of kid, but he supposed chai tea was plausiblem, too. The barista told them she'd have it over at their table when they were finished, and with that, Aomine moved towards a table situated by the window and plopped down. True to his word (actually, had Sakurai ever agreed?) the boy was paying the woman with a couple of bills and then dropping the change into the tip jar. Of course he was the kind of guy to tip. Aomine rolled his eyes and looked back to the window, waiting for Sakurai to come back over.

The brown-eyed male sighed quietly as he folded the bills he'd been given as change into his wallet. He tucked it back into the pocket of his hoodie where his cellphone rest and then moved back over to the table with Aomine. 

"I... I didn't mean to snap suddenly at you..." His apology came after a few moments of quiet had passed between them, and Aomine lolled his head lazily, only half-supporting it with his propped up arm. Sakurai really hadn't meant to do that, he was sure; he just... it was... a touchy subject, to say the least.

"It's fine."

The silence between them that fell again was more awkward this time, although Sakurai wanted to pretend it was companionable. Maybe he should ask if he could switch roommates. That would be such a rude and selfish thing, but he didn't think he could deal with this heavy atmosphere all the time. It felt like Aomine's very presence was a weight on Sakurai's shoulder; he didn't know how to deal with it. It was exhausting him already. Aomine wasn't even looking at him; instead, the male's dark gaze was staring out the window, where night had fallen completely. The mood matched the sky outside, dark and deep.

Aomine didn't exactly know what to say. When was the last time he'd dragged a guy into a coffee shop for drinks? That was a ritual usually reserved for a cute girl, possibly two, or a close friend. Sakurai was neither.

Fortunately, the pair was saved from having to make any sort of conversation when the girl from the register came, setting down their drinks with a smile and a good evening. Sakurai immediately reached for his drink, taking a sip. Aomine did the same, and Sakurai glanced over the rim of his mug at the male opposite him; it seemed as if Aomine had the same thoughts, and their eyes met briefly. Sakurai flushed, glancing away, and Aomine wanted to groan at the painful awkwardness of the entire situation. He was Aomine, suave and confident, not Aomine, coffee-shop weirdo.

"I pegged you as a hot chocolate kind of guy." He nearly blurted it, barely managing to catch himself and make it seem less like an over-eager attempt at closing the silence between them. 

Sakurai choked, the sound making Aomine's eyes widen ever-so-slightly as his eyebrows rose. Was Sakurai alright? He set the mug back down and the tea sloshed onto the tabletop. Sakurai, despite the fact that he was turning disconcertingly redder with each passing second, managed to wheeze an apology as he coughed the tea out of his throat. With that, he reached for a napkin - at the same time Aomine did. Their fingers brushed, and Sakurai cracked out another apology; Aomine jerked his hand away, leaving Sakurai to pull the brown napkins to wipe up the mess.

After a few moments of hacking, it became evident that Sakurai was okay, but Aomine couldn't gather the courage to look back at Sakurai. Instead, he was thinking about that stupid-ass hand touch. Why was he still thinking about it? About the heat of Sakurai's touch, the way he had stupidly soft hands - what kind of guy had hands that soft? - and the way that his fingertips were long and slender and just screamed of their delicate state, even with just a glimpse of a touch like that. Shit, what the hell, Aomine? He scolded himself interally, trying to convince himself to pull it together, and then he brought his gaze back to Sakurai.

Sakurai sat there, looking thoroughly embarrassed and red, but something else caught Aomine's eyes; the tear tracks. Shit, the tear tracks, the wet, glossy nature to those stupidly big brown eyes - not something Aomine didn't usually care about. He'd seen tears, he'd seen it all. It didn't matter. He'd been the cause of them, hell. But for some reason...

"I've gotta go. I'll see you back at the dorm." Aomine aggressively threw back the rest of the coffee, black and bitter (just the way he liked it, although this brew was a little stronger than usual), and without another word, strode right out of the coffee shop. He'd clear his head and walk for a while, because everything was just strange and not how he wanted it to be, and when he was finished, he'd walk back to the dorm. No big deal, right? He pretended he hadn't seen the shocked, somewhat hurt expression on Sakurai's face as he walked out.

It took two hours for him to calm down. When he arrived back at the dorm, the door was still locked; fortunately, he'd somehow remembered to shove the key back down into his pocket, and after a moment of fiddling, he got the door open. Why wasn't Sakurai back? The clock flashed eleven, red and urgent on Sakurai's nightstand - ah, the coffee shop closed at midnight. With no classes tomorrow, maybe Sakurai had decided to stick around and sit in the calm aura of the store. It seemed like he'd probably like that kind of place, what with the peaceful indie music and the smell of baked goods and all that. Aomine didn't think much of it, and with a clearer head, a lessened headache, and a change of clothing, he flopped into bed to force himself to fall asleep.

He was uneasy, uncomfortable that Sakurai wasn't there, and when it hit midnight, the feeling only grew.

When the clock turned one, Aomine knew something was wrong. His heart pounded as he threw the covers back, and he wondered what he should do - call the police? Kuroba's had closed by now. He opened the door to the dorm as his mind raced through the options, and then a familiar, somewhat hated voice filtered into his ears, laughter booming. Anxiously, Aomine swallowed, and then moved down the hallway, where the door to the hall leader's room was cracked open. He tried to take a deep breath, reassure himself that Sakurai had just been uncomfortable coming back to their room, but when he nudged open the door, only Wakamatsu sat there, watching a movie with headphones in on his laptop.

The blonde's voice darkened when he glanced up and saw Aomine in the doorway, but yet and still, he popped the ear buds out.

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly, shifting into a sitting position and moving the laptop, dwarfed even further by his size, onto the unmade bed beside him.

"Sakurai, er..." Aomine began, because he wasn't entirely sure how to go about this story, "Well, you see, I left him at Kuroba's, and it's his first time there I'm pretty sure, and he, well.. He kind of hasn't gotten back yet." Aomine rushed the last sentence hurriedly, because he had a feeling--- no, he knew, that Wakamatsu wasn't going to be happy.

"You _what_?"

"Er..."

"And you don't have his cell?"

"Uh...."

"Shit. _Shit_. SHIT."

Aomine couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he sprinted down the hall after Wakamatsu's back.


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine and Wakamatsu fail to find Sakurai when they go searching for him - but Sakurai finds someone else, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, i'm gonna apologize for my lack of consistency. i got some rude feedback about this story and it really kept me from wanting to work on it. however, i know some people really are following this story, so i pulled myself together to pull together this chapter. hopefully the extra length and excitement helps make up for the wait!

“I can’t fucking believe you. Motherfucker. Fucking first night with the freshmen in the dorm and this shit happens. Bullshit. This is bullshit.”

Aomine tried to tell himself that no, his palms were not sweating because of the long stream of cursing that had been spilling out of Wakamatsu’s mouth in his loud, demanding tone for the past ten minutes. He tried to tell himself that it was because they had literally been sprinting the entire time (for a big guy, Wakamatsu moved pretty fast), and although Aomine was in pretty good shape, he’d spent the last chunk of his summer before college with his friends, alcohol, and a lot of junkfood.

However, even he couldn’t deny the nervous sweat dripping down his back as he jogged. It was disgusting, how clammy and anxious he felt, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was how it felt to be worried all the time – in essence, to be Sakurai. Did that guy constantly feel like he was going to be sick to his stomach? 

“Pay attention!”

Wakamatsu’s barking command broke through Aomine’s train of thought as the taller blonde reached out and snatched Aomine by the collar of his shirt, barely managing to yank him off course. Aomine was two seconds away from snapping back at him when he realized that he had almost smashed into a light post, and the hall leader had just barely managed to keep him from breaking his nose in on the cold metal. Aomine mumbled something that might have passed as thanks, and the two of them rounded the corner to step onto the street where Kuroba’s was.

Dark. Everything about the coffee shop was dark; the open sign wasn’t flashing and not a single light gleamed through the front window.

“You’re kidding.” Aomine couldn’t help the tinge of fear that made its way into his voice, nor could he stop the dreadful feeling that was growing steadily. He’d figured that Sakurai couldn’t be in there – he knew that Kuroba’s closed at midnight – but he’d hoped (somewhat desperately) that Sakurai would’ve struck up a conversation with an employee and made the place stay open late. That was foolish, though, considering that Sakurai probably would’ve apologized for being there so close to closing in the first place. 

As if inspecting closer might reveal something else, Aomine pressed his face against the window, slightly damp with the night air around them. Nothing. The place was entirely cleaned up, chairs flipped up on tables and the only sign of life the faint flicker of small, mechanical lights on the machinery behind the counter. 

Wakamatsu’s hand slammed next to him on the window and Aomine barely managed to keep himself from jumping halfway across the street to escape him.

“You have your cell on you, right?” Wakamatsu asked, and the way his voice had grown quiet and somehow still thunderous had Aomine starting to understand exactly why this guy was a hall leader. Aomine wasn’t the type to be afraid of anyone, but the blonde definitely set him on edge and made him feel like anything might happen, any moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“Put my number in it, text me so I have yours, and then we’re going to split up and look for him.” Again with the eerie voice. Aomine swallowed and nodded, pulling out his phone and punching in the numbers as Wakamatsu rattled them off. Wakamatsu narrowed his eyes at Aomine, and before he could protest, raised a hand to cuff Aomine across the head.

“You fucked up, freshman.” Wakamatsu’s voice had regained some volume, but that was perhaps only due to the deep growl that echoed through his words. Aomine frowned at Wakamatsu’s retreating back.

“It’s not like I knew that this would happen.” He defended himself aloud, despite the fact that Wakamatsu was no longer in earshot. An alley cat meowed a few feet away as if to say, ‘Really, dipshit?’ and Aomine hissed at it before spinning on his heel and stalking in the other direction.

Nothing happened to Sakurai, he told himself, but yet and still, he shouted that Plain John’s name and searched for him.

\---

Aomine jumped at the sound of his phone ringing, whipping out of his pocket as his heart pounded furiously. Had Wakam—

“I’m guessing you didn’t find him?” Aomine flinched and had to pull the phone away from his ear at Wakamatsu’s ridiculous volume level. 

“… No.”

The two of them had been at it for probably an hour. Aomine was exhausted; his eyelids were heavy, even though his mind was buzzing. He hadn’t slept well in the past few days and now he was out at two in the morning searching for his new college roommate with his hall leader, who basically hated his guts, and he felt like total shit. Reaching up with his free hand, he toyed with the piercings on the ear his phone wasn’t next to.

“We have to head back. I could get in trouble for taking you out like this.” Wakamatsu’s words were heavy with worry and what sounded like tiredness on his end, too. Aomine wanted to protest, and as if sensing that he might, Wakamatsu spoke up again,

“We aren’t doing anything. He’s obviously not around here.” 

Aomine hissed and pressed his hand against his temples, now, before running it through his hair.

“Fine.”

“Meet me back in front of Kuroba’s and we’ll go from there.”

Aomine trudged back to the front of the coffee shop, dragging his feet the entire way. He couldn’t stop clacking his piercing against the back of his teeth, pissed and agitated and burdened with worry that he didn’t usually deal with. He was Aomine Daiki. He laughed in the face of concern and other trivial emotions. He didn’t need them. But yet, here he was, feeling like he was going to choke because the veil of guilt that rest over him was so thick. The walk back to the dormitory was silent; the only sound, really, was the noise that Aomine’s piercing made and the inevitably heavy footfalls of Wakamatsu as they moved. The rest of the city was quiet, creepily so – but then again, it was two-thirty in the morning by the time they had reached the dorm again, Wakamatsu sliding his residential card to get them into the building.

They parted awkwardly in front of Wakamatsu’s room. The upperclassman had barely stepped over the threshold of his room before he turned to stare at Aomine, eyes steely.

“If he isn’t here by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, you’re calling the police and explaining exactly how you left a guy who has no idea how to get around town alone at a coffee shop in the middle of the night with no means of contacting anyone.”

Aomine’s mouth dried and his throat felt like sandpaper as he mumbled a ‘yes’, and turned to go back into his dorm. Part of him hoped that when he opened the door, he would see that stupid apologetic idiot in the room, but he wasn’t. Sakurai’s phone sat on his desk, and Aomine cursed as he threw himself onto the bed. What did it matter if Sakurai had his phone? It wasn’t like Aomine had his number.

Sakurai’s phone vibrated, and Aomine left it. It was probably that kid’s family, calling to check on him.

It vibrated again, a phone call this time, and then gave a little ping that sounded like a voicemail. Aomine lifted his head from the pillow to glare at it, daring it to go off again and make him feel even shittier than he already did. It didn’t, and Aomine was left to the silence of his room, barring the mechanical whirring of the tiny mini-fridge that was on Sakurai’s side of the room.

Silence was not a good thing when you were plagued with worry so heavy that you couldn’t get your mind to shut off. Should he flip through one of his magazines, or something? He glanced at the suitcase at the end of the bed, where half of his stuff still was, unpacked and waiting to be pulled out. Aomine groaned to himself as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, getting up even though he had only been laying there for a few moments. He was just unpacking because he wanted to – not because he was too guilty to sleep. Definitely not that.

Yanking out the final objects, he shoved the gravure magazines he had into the top drawer of his desk and set out the sole picture he had of him and his family on his desk. His dad held up his little sister on one shoulder, and had the opposite arm around Aomine’s shoulders; his mom was tucked into Aomine’s side, and they were all grinning. Aomine could only imagine the thorough destroying that his mother would give him if she found out what he’d done. It wasn’t like it had been on purpose, but he could still hear her voice, crystal clear, and imagine her brandishing a rolled up newspaper as she whacked him upside the head and scolded him. 

Shit, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight, not until Sakurai came back. He wasn’t worried about Sakurai, persay, but moreso about what was going to happen to Aomine if something went wrong. That was all this was. He didn’t want to think about what Wakamatsu would do if Sakurai didn’t show up. He didn’t want to think about the grilling the police would give him when he told him what had happened. That was exactly why Sakurai had to come home.

Aomine plopped into the seat at his desk and shoved his head into his hands. 

He messed up.

\---

At some point in the night, Aomine must have fallen asleep, because he was woken by a knocking on the door.

“No.” Aomine muttered, sitting up slowly. His neck screamed at him, stiff and sore; he had fallen asleep just like that, on the desk. How long had he been out? He had spent a majority of the night worrying about the situation, and he’d still been up when the first streams of light started to leak into the room – but then he must have fallen asleep, however terrible that rest had been.

The knocking grew in loudness and frequency, and Aomine swore to himself as he stood up.

“It’s too early for this.” He groaned, and then glanced to his left, where S.. 

“Shit!” He swore audibly this time and he snatched his jacket and keys up from the desk, ready to bust out of the room and go search for Sakurai again before he had to call the police. Yanking the door open and getting ready to bowl down whoever was on the other side, he froze as he saw just exactly who was there.

“You _asshole_!”

Sakurai’s eyes widened, wet and teary, as Aomine stepped outside of the door, one finger jamming accusingly into his chest.

“Who the fuck doesn’t show back up at their dorm at night? I went out with our stupid hall leader to search for your sorry ass and then you never even come back! Did you take a freaking side trip to America or something before you decided to come back, or what?!” 

Aomine hadn’t realized his voice had grown to shouting level until he finished, and he stopped his rant with an abrupt, gruff noise. He jerked his head to the side and frowned down the hall, wondering of Wakamatsu knew Sakurai was back. He twisted his head back to face Sakurai, who was standing in near-tears in front of him, quivering where he stood.

“I’m so sorry – I… I called.” His protest was gentle and meek, and it did nothing to soothe Aomine’s furious anger (although he felt like most of it was targeted at himself), despite the immense feeling of relief that had flooded Aomine upon seeing his roommate on the other end of the door.

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t even have my number.” Aomine protested quickly, and Sakurai’s face heated up, head bowing as he stared at the floor.

“I called my own phone, I’m sorry I didn’t have your phone – sorry I should’ve gotten your number – and I left a voicemail and my phone isn’t locked so I thought if I texted and called enough you would pick up… I’m so sorry!”

“Stop saying that.” Aomine muttered, deflating like a balloon that had gotten a hole poked in it. He had deliberately ignored that guy’s phone last night – he should’ve known that many texts and calls were abnormal for a guy like him. With a groan, Aomine turned and moved back into the room, throwing himself in exhausted defeat onto his bed once more. Well, shit.

Sakurai shuffled in tentatively behind him, closing the door. He didn’t know exactly what to say – he had really tried his best to get in touch with Aomine, but there was nothing he could do.

“Tell me what happened.” Sakurai’s eyes widened as Aomine practically spoke into the bed, rather than at him, his face shoved in the poorly-dressed sheets on the mattress. Sakurai twiddled his fingers in front of him, took a deep breath, and began to relay exactly what had gone down last night.

“W-well, after you left me at the coffee shop, I stayed for a little while… And then I walked back. It was kind of late, probably near midnight, and I realized when I got back that I forgot my keycard to get in – I’m so sorry I’ll remember it next time I go out I’ve just never had a keycard to get into a building before – and then I started freaking out because no one was answering my knocks.” 

“Fuck.” Aomine moaned, because he had _seen_ Sakurai’s stupid ass keycard on the desk and thought nothing of it. The pieces were clicking.

“T-then a guy stopped and asked me if I needed help, and I told him. He lives in one of the newest dorms and his keycard wouldn’t work on ours, but he took me back to his room. He was really, ah, cheerful – and he said he knew you, but he’d just gotten a new phone, so he didn’t have your number, which is why I had to call mine – so—“

“You can’t do anything about that, stop saying sorry.” Aomine felt defeated, tired, and beyond all else, idiotic. But…

“Wait, you said he knew me?” It took his tired brain a few moments to catch up, and he sat up in bed, rubbing his forehead as he tried to get his mind to process what exactly was being said. Who was it, exactly?

“Ah, yeah – he said his roommate knew you too, but his roommate wasn’t moving in until today, so there was a free bed and I just slept in there last night, and then I called residential services as soon as they opened up today to get into the dorm and---“

Aomine raised a hand and stared at Sakurai, who paused his rambling explanation under his gaze, and asked,

“Who the hell was this?” He knew quite a couple people who were coming to this school – it was a big university, after all, and since Aomine was pretty local, there were bound to be locals who he recognized.

“K-Kise Ryouta. He’s blonde, and, uh—“

Aomine didn’t even laugh. He said nothing, flopping to the side and laying on the bed as if he had lost all energy and will to live.

“Let me guess. Roommate was Tetsuya, ah, Kuroko Tetsuya.” 

Sakurai’s nod, which he caught out of the corner of his eye, was just enough.

“Of course it’s those two. I can’t escape them.” 

Sakurai opened his mouth like he asked, and Aomine sent one glare at him to keep him from asking any questions. Aomine was not in the mood to answer them. He would explain later. Despite the glare, Sakurai still squeaked out one little comment,

“I d-didn’t expect you two to be friends.” Aomine wanted to protest that and say they weren’t, but he just sighed to himself. It was true – Aomine, Kuroko, and Tetsuya were an odd pair to say the least. Kuroko had no sense of fashion, really; he wore whatever he fancied that morning, although Kise tried to shove him into his clothes more often than not. Kise himself wore pastel – that asshole was totally pastel, all lavenders and mints and stupid girly patterns when he wasn’t modeling something else. They were an odd trio, but they’d been good friends all through high school. He hadn’t talked to either much at the end of summer because he’d gone on the cruise with his family and then college had come up so fast…

He wouldn’t be hearing the end of this fiasco from either of them any time soon, he knew.

Pointing at Sakurai, he crooked his finger and beckoned the other over. Sakurai approached tentatively, like Aomine was a loose cannon (which, hey, he wouldn’t disagree with), and stopped in front of Aomine with a curious glint to his gaze.

Aomine pulled back his arm, balled his hand up, and punched Sakurai _hard_ in the shoulder. 

“I’m not saying I was worried, but ever pull shit like that again, and I’ll skin you and use your hide as my blanket at night.” He ignored the terrified expression that bloomed on Sakurai’s features and stood up, making his way back towards the door.

“Let’s go get breakfast. And grab your damn keycard and cell before we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there you have it! kise is (sort-of) introduced, aomine is grappling with stupidity and guilt, and we might even see kuroko soon. i hope you enjoyed! please let me know or feel free to drop feedback at my tumblr as well~


End file.
